


Cas's Christmas Eve

by MaisieBee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15004055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaisieBee/pseuds/MaisieBee
Summary: Castiel is finally getting to spend Christmas Eve with the Winchesters, but what is "mistletoeing"?





	Cas's Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Supernatural fanfic, written in 2014, so please be nice to baby Maisie Bee. She didn't think this would ever see the light.

This December twenty-fourth couldn’t be more perfect. Outside the window of the motel, snow was falling softly from the white sky. The ‘No Vacancy’ signs red lights reflected off the hood of the Impala and inside. It danced playfully on the right side of Cas’s face. His great blue eyes watched Dean climbing up onto the tacky yellow chair to hang the tinfoil star on the wall. He was making a makeshift Christmas tree before Sammy came back from the library. So far, it was basically all the green clothes they had rigged up using a complicated contraption of wire coat hangers and tape as the tree body and little red circles cut from the motel note paper at the ornaments. 

Cas, curled up on the floor by the hissing radiator, thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Or maybe that was Dean. He wasn’t totally sure. The glossy magazine beside him lay forgotten, more extravagant Christmas being outshined by a the product of one man who’d spent the last several years of his life hunting demons. The angel flipped through the magazine, then stopped, integrated by a picture of a couple kissing. It proclaimed this activity to be “mistletoeing.” Cas knew about mistletoe. It was a poisonous berry. Why were these people kissing under it?

Grunting, Dean stretched to attach the star. It attached, then fell as soon as Dean moved his hand. For five minutes, Dean struggled to put it on. Finally, he turned his head slightly and said, “Hey, Cas, you gonna sit there and watch or actually help?”

They used the entire roll of tape in Sammy’s backpack. Slowly, they drew their hands back and watched the star stay in place. It was crumpled and badly-shaped, but Cas said, “I think it looks very nice, Dean.”

Dean blushed uncharacteristically. He rubbed his neck. “Heh. Thanks,” he mumbled.

Cas smiled at him and felt his own face heat up. He liked the feeling. Only Dean made him feel that way.

Dean was turned towards him. The corner of his mouth tugged in a smile. “Hey, Cas, you’ve got a. . . thing just there.” He reached up and pulled a scrap of red paper from Cas’s hair. “There.”

They stood there. It was quiet. So quiet that Cas could hear his heart beating. Odd. Dean could only make that happen, too. Dean made Cas’s vessel do a lot of strange things. Cas didn’t mind at all.

Face the color of the ‘No Vacancy’ sign, Dean was standing very, very close now. Cas didn’t move a muscle. He smelled like leather and iron and the Impala. It comforted Cas as Dean’s cold fingers rested on the angel’s neck. With an awkward movement that was like his mouth led the whole operation, Dean leaned in close to Cas. Their breaths mingled in the air. An inch more and they would be kissing. The angel and the hunter, kissing; how poetic.

But Dean’s mesmerizing green eyes opened and looked into Cas’s. They stared at each other. Cas tried to remember to put warmth into his eyes, but looking into Dean’s, he found it hard to concentrate on anything in particular.

The door swung open and Sammy and a flurry of snow came in. Five feet were between the hunter and his angel in less than a second. Brushing off his coat with one hand, Sam held a white box in the other. He grinned at them both and held it up.

“I bought pie—” he stopped and stared. “Dude, what the hell is that?”

“It’s a Christmas tree!” Cas exclaimed. “Dean made it.”

 

“It looks like your closet blew up.” Sam set down the box and shrugged his jacket off, throwing it over the radiator. He dug around for plates.

Dean scowled. “I go to all this trouble and it’s not good enough for you? Typical.”

Judging by Sam’s expression — eyebrows bunches, eyes downcast, mouth drawn — Dean’s words had hit too close to home. Christmas was a tough time for the Winchester’s. Both boys missed their parents, both wished they didn’t care so much. Sam sometimes joked that he wished they had been born Jewish so they didn’t have to celebrate Christmas in motels year after painful, bloody year.

“Sam, I-I’m sorry,” Dean said. His dimples appeared as he swallowed. “It sounded better in my head. And you know what my heads like.”

“Porn and potato chips?” Sam shot.

“Hey, you left out rock music. And I don’t eat chips. Beer, porn, and rock 'n roll. That’s the great mind of Dean Winchester.”

“You forgot something important.” Sam mouthed something to Dean. 

Dean, if even possible, went even redder.

Sam snorted and looked away, but he was smiling. “Nah, it’s a great tree. Thanks, bro.”

“No chick-flick moments, Sam. Let’s eat this pie.” Dean cut the pieces and offered one out on a plate to Cas. They all arranged themselves around the small motel room and stared at the clothes tree and the tinfoil star. The only sound was when Dean popped open a can of Coke and took a drink.

Cas remember his question. Looking up from the delicious pie, Cas asked, “Dean, what is ‘mistletoeing’?”

Coke spewed from Dean’s mouth. He coughed and choked while Sammy cackled, not even bothering to help his brother.

“Uh, well,” Dean said when he’d managed to stop dying. “It’s when two people stand under the mistletoe and, uh, kiss.”

Cas’s eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head in the way Sam joked looked like a lost puppy. “I don’t understand. What does kissing have to do with the birth of Christ?”

Sam cackled again until Dean shot him a poisonous look. He tried his best to stifle the laughter, but it wasn’t working.

Dean shrugged. “Beats me. Christmas tradition.”

“Oh. Okay.” Cas took another bite of pie. 

They were all silent. Cas had gotten very good at telling what the brothers were thinking based on their facial expressions. Right now, Sam had a expression that spoke mischievous volumes. He stood and tossed his empty plate down on his seat, smirking. He grabbed the Impala’s keys from the table.

“I left something in the car. Be right back.” Sam grabbed his jacket. He was standing close to Cas. With a glance back to make sure Dean wasn’t looking, Sam whispered, “Pizzaman, Cas. Mistletoeing is basically the pizzaman. Make it my Christmas present, okay?”

Cas realized what he meant. “Oh. Okay,” he said again. Then he was confused. Or maybe he wasn’t. It was hard to think of anything else besides “mistletoeing” with Dean.

Sammy winked and left, still laughing to himself. The door slammed and the level of awkward in the room became potent, at least in the area Dean was taking up.

Standing and cleaning up the plates, Cas made a plan. He walked over to Dean and held out a hand. “Plate?” he asked. It was a good thing he was good at holding still, otherwise his vessel might have betrayed his nerves and shook.

“Uh, that’s okay, thanks,” Dean said. He wouldn’t meet Cas’s eyes.

***

Cold fingers touched the angel’s neck.

So, Cas thought numbly. This is what mistletoeing is like.

And he liked it a lot.

***

When Sam peered creepily through the window ten minutes later, covered in snow and bored with sitting in the Impala listening to Dean’s Metallica CDs, the hunter and his angel were both grinning widely. They sat together, closer than ever, by the radiator, looking through Cas’s Christmas magazine.

Sam smiled, happy they had finally broken the ice between them.

But he’d never be as happy as Cas. If this was Christmas, Cas wanted to celebrate it every year with their clothes tree and tinfoil star and mistletoeing with Dean. Maybe the clothes tree had gotten a bit better over the years, but it slowly began to heal them all. The boys liked Christmas that much better now. And Cas. . . Cas loved it most of all.


End file.
